


Scrying

by SugarandSpice (LittleLadyDoll)



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arranged Marriage, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Character Death, Death, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Rape Recovery, Romace, Violence, warfare
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-19 22:51:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17010663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLadyDoll/pseuds/SugarandSpice
Summary: [scry/skrī/Submitverbgerund or present participle: scryingforetell the future using a crystal ball or other reflective object or surface.]"A queen cannot be happy, can they?"Catherine lets out a noise of genuine sorrow, and wraps her arms tightly around the younger, holding her as she sobbed quietly."That, Elise, is a lesson they should have taught you long ago."





	1. Old Friends, New Allies

"You know, Solaris. French court is nicer than I thought it would be." Elise mused absentmindedly to one of her ladies, dragging her hand across the cold stone walls of her chambers. The bleak grey was decorated with tapestries and colorful artwork. 

An ode to Norway sat on her pillow, the cover a soft gold, with bold, blue letters across it. Myths of Norway. The thought was what mattered, right? 

With a gentle sigh, Elise smoothed her hands down her heavy dress, and then fanned herself. Solaris laughed from where she stood near the vanity, drawing Elise's attention and gentle smile. Solaris had always been her favored lady, and she was well aware of the fact. As far as Elise was concerned though, she'd never abused it, never asked of anything brash or unreasonable. Her family was one of the stronger families supporting her reign, and though by all rights, Solaris did not declare she was indebted to her or her father. Lord Aamot, and his family, were kind. It was a wonder they'd risen to such power with their sweet personalities. 

"My lady, if I may, it is time to greet the King and Queen of this land-" 

"Time to listen to the old debate of whether they should call me Your Grace or My Lady, you mean? Listen to the argue my country's legitimacy?" 

Solaris chuckled a bit, pushing the door open with a loud creak, to show off the hall they'd seemingly just come down, the guards on either side of the hall stood at attention as Elise emerged, her servant close behind. 

"That, my Lady, is precisely what I meant." 

§

"Francis. I'm quite thrilled to meet this new Queen, show at least a little excitement." 

"Excitement for what, another country scrambling for French power? Mary-" Francis ran a hand through his hair, then gripped his Fiancés shoulders tightly, "We are not married, she's grasping desperately at anything to make her country seem more real in the world's eyes. She has armies and she is holding off in a war against the entirety of Scandinavia. You think my father won't see her as a chance?" 

With a scowl, Mary stepped back, "You speak low of her, and yet you've never met her. And claim you don't want to," She half glared at him, a chill seeming to sweep through the room, brought on only by her irritation, "Well, /I/ happen to have been quite close with her as a child, and intend to be that way again. She was kind and innocent when we were young." 

"But you aren't young anymore! She isn't some noble, she's a Queen, desperate for a King to provide more to the public eye-" 

"Are you implying, perhaps, that she is desperate for you? Elise, Queen Elise, could easily declare that treason to the Norwegian throne and uproot the entirety of French court. She has the money and backings to defend herself against Sweden, Denmark, Iceland, and Finland. She surely has the power your Father craves to overthrow the English Queen if her attention was focused solely on them." Mary turned, to face the window. Her friend wasn't like that, had never even thought of war when they were children. But Francis was right, they were grown now, and Rowan had changed, perhaps as much as she had in the decade since they'd seen eachother. 

She wasn't a little girl, and her country couldn't hold out forever against the people who pushed for her to be removed from the throne. Perhaps, it wasn't entirely far fetched to assume she would be after the French throne. 

§

"Your Grace," Elise curtsied, head bowed to the French King and Queen. She was met with a scoff. 

"A fake princess, running to us for defense and sanctuary, right?" Henry asked, eyebrow raised and voice lilted, mocking her. Here, in front of his entire court. Knowing she could not lash back, for fear of being shunned or turned away. 

"A Queen." Elise began carefully, "Coming as representative of her people and country, to make ties with, hopefully, a friend. Perhaps, an ally." 

Again, a scoff. And a wave of a hand, dismissed. 

Elise bowed her head, and curtsied again, before backing a few steps, and then making her way out of the room. Her heels clicked against the floor as she hurriedly made her way through the castle halls. Artwork and rugs, dresses of pink and gold- men and women gathered in little circles chattering excitedly throughout the halls. 

And up ahead, a woman with dark hair and a striking red dress, a sweet and familiar smile-

Mary, Queen of Scots, old friend, and hopefully her first ally in this political maze. 

"Your Grace." She said carefully, as Mary took her hands in her own, and smiled brightly, "It's been-" 

"Hard? Henry's already trying to make you the laughingstock of France, isn't he? Trust me. I understand." 

Elise laughed, and hugged the other Queen tight, stepping back and falling into rhythm beside her. Her dress was airy, made of tulle and lace and silk. From Paris, bought by her betrothed, no doubt. Elise's was a heavy, patterned blue made by her countrymen for journeys and warmth. 

Mary, it seemed, hand taken note.  
"Come with me. Ive just sent Lola out shopping, she's coming back with the most beautiful dresses from Paris. They will look absolutely darling on you." 

Elise followed cautiously, "Are you sure? I'll pay you back, however much it costs for the one I wear-" 

"There's no need for that. A gift, to old friends and new allies, yes?" 

Silence passed, and Mary hoped she wasn't making her first mistake already, declaring them friends and allies in this court. But it didn't seem to matter very long, as her friend smiled, and nodded. 

"To old friends, and new allies." Elise echoed, ignoring the lingering eyes of French nobles, if only for a moment.


	2. Underestimated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rowan has her first meeting with the kings bastard, while Mary struggles through yet another fight for troops with the French monarch.

“My Lady.” 

“That.” Solaris glanced over, eyes catching on the kneeling bastard of the king, “Is not My Queen’s title.” 

Elise held her hand up, to silence her lady, and offered it to Bash, who pressed his lips against her knuckles, eyes locked with her own the entire time. 

“You’re bold.” 

“You’re something to be bold for.” 

Elise let out something like a laugh, and pulled her hand away as Sebastian stood at full height. 

“Queen,” She emphasized, “Elise Ellefsen, of Denmark and Norway.” She introduced herself- hopefully this was some handsome young lord- with lands and titles to back her claim to the throne. His eyes were dark, and yet inviting. Deep, and warm. 

“Sebastian de Poitiers.” 

Of course he was the King’s bastard. That was her luck. 

“Well, Sebastian de Poitiers, its been nice to make your acquaintance. I do hope to see you around again. But I fear the nobles are crowing for attention.” 

Elise smiled, and dipped her head, before continuing down the corridor, barely waiting for Sebastian to step out of her way. His focus was drawn so wholly on her he barely noticed the sour look her lady sent him, lips drawn into a scowl and eyebrows scrunched. 

Sebastian did nothing but grin in return. 

§

“Scotland needs someone who can honor the alliance as allies. If France cannot, then I will find someone else who can!” Hush fell over the room as Mary publicly declared her decision, her threat. She swore even Catherine visibly shrunk back against the stone wall as she grew quiet once again, chest rising and falling with quick angry breaths. 

The outburst had been unexpected. They were underestimating her again. She couldn’t stand that about them, especially not Francis, as he laid a hand on her back and tried to gently quiet her internal rage. It made it worse. She stepped away from him, practically yanking herself out of his grip, towards the table that held the map. The map that they were not using. 

Because Henry would not send troops. 

Her eyes met Catherine’s, and for the first time since she’d returned to court, Catherine smiled at her. Subtle, yet proud. Remains of the woman who’d raised her so dutifully when she was young. 

Mary thought, briefly, that it was worth the glare she was receiving from the nobles to have Catherine give her that smile. 

“Mary.” Francis whispered, arm around her waist as he pulled her back and directed her out of the room, “That. Is a threat you cannot make in front of the king. What if he doesn’t allow us to marry? What them?” 

“Do you think it is a threat I want to make, Francis? Do you think I want to risk my marriage, my stay at court? You think I want to make room for your father to terrorize me alongside your mother?” 

Francis let go of her, and ran both hands through his hair, Mary tried not to roll her eyes, he was overreacting. He always did when it came to these things. Francis had never had to suffer loss as she had. Never sacrificed and had things taken even when he wanted them. 

He made swords, because he wanted something to fall back on Incase he could not be King one day, but kept the same mindset that any ruler would. That he was owed what he wanted, and it should be given to him now. 

Mary loathed that part of him, and loved it as well. Loved how it fought for her, and yet, here it was, turned against her.

“I love you, Francis.” Mary’s cold hands curled around his own, the silver of the ring she wore causing a chill to run up his arm, as his eyes met her own. His lips parted, and Mary gently cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing against his cheekbone, smile soft and sad. He knew what that meant. 

“But your country comes first.” Francis concluded for her, leaving her no room to comment or agree, before stepping away from her hold and laughing, “And I thought we’d gotten passed this, that I was the only one doing this. I thought it was safe to love you.” 

“Francis even when we are married- If we are married, it still will be unsafe to love me. I am a queen, and England is devouring my country and my people, I will never be safe. Not really.” 

He let out a bitter laugh and turned his back to her, hurrying down the corridor. Mary’s words echoing in his head. She would never be safe to love. 

Never. 

He could never love her, not wholly, as he wanted. As she wanted. 

Mary covered her mouth with one hand, head down as she hurried to her chambers. 

§

“I think, Sebastian de Poitiers, that you may be following me.” Elise mused, looking down at Sebastian from the balcony she stood on. A harsh wind blew, and her dress billowed in the wind, the smell of freshly harvested grain, met her nose, and her face scrunched up. 

Sebastian laughed, and bowed, “Bash, if you will, Your Grace,” He said carefully, lips curving into a soft smile as he watched her. 

“Bash.” Elise repeated, leaning against her balcony railing, for only a moment before a voice sounded from inside her chambers. She jumped, and turned. Bash laughed a little, beneath her, and for a moment her attention was drawn towards him once again, until her name was called from her doorway, timidly. One of her ladies. 

“I’ll see you at the ball, yes?” 

“At the ball?” Sebastian laughed a little, and Elise merely cocked a brow. He laughed a bit more, “Of course, Your Grace.” 

“Good, well met, bastard.” She hummed, slipping into her room to greet her lady, smiling. 

“Muriel. How lovely- what is it?” 

“Solaris. She’s uh, a bit, out of it at the moment- if you will-“ the lady tripped over her words, trying to rush them. Calling Solaris drunk and indecent without using plain words. 

“She’s drank herself delirious, you mean.” 

“....Yes, m’lady.” 

Elise covered her mouth, and looked away for a moment, hiding a laugh before she straightened up, and fixed her dress. 

“I can’t wait for the ball, I never imagined the King would throw a ball to greet you after what happened in the throne room.” Muriel mused to herself, guiding Elise to her vanity, and sitting her down. Darkness was beginning to fall, “We’ve got three days to pick the perfect dress for you, Your Grace.” 

Elise smiled, eyes a bit unfocused even as she watched her lady move around her, and pull pins from her hair in the mirror. 

“Three days.” Muriel began, nudging her Queen a bit before she began gently pulling a brush through her silky locks, “And we can find you a deserving King with funds and support,” Muriel gently reminded, as if Elise was not aware of why she’d come to French court in the first place. 

“I know very well what to do at a ball, Muriel.” Elise warned, voice low and dangerous, “And why I am here. Do not forget that I am your queen, and suggestions, even if they are only that, can be called as treason to people who are listening. And here, someone is always listening. Do you understand? Whatever you are accusing me of, do not voice it. Think of it in your heart, if you must. Never, ever bring words to it. Am I understood?” 

Muriel’s hands had fallen, about halfway through her lady’s speech. When her voice died off, and the words continued echo in her ears, Muriel dipped her head and helped her to her feet to slip her into her nightgown. 

“Of course, Your Grace.”


End file.
